


There Is a Love That's Inherently Given

by andymcnope



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Future Fic, Multi, Polyamorous relationship, family fic, kidfic meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andymcnope/pseuds/andymcnope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several kidfic meme prompts from Tumblr. There are three separate 'verses for three ships: Oliver/Felicity, Oliver/Sara/Felicity and Sara/Felicity. Rating varies from drabble to drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sharp Corners - One Shot (Oliver/Felicity)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Wait by Sarah McLachlan.

itsalwaysfour & yoyomarules asked: Olicity: "Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?"

* * *

 

Very few things echo in the foundry the way baby cries did. Roy winced, fairly sure he’d prefer one of Sara’s sonic screams to this. He ran towards the nine-month-old as she lay on her back, little feet kicking like crazy and a bruise forming on her forehead. Picking her up carefully, he tried to soothe her but it was useless.

“What happened?” Felicity asked as she ran down the steps, scooping little Jess from his arms in a swift motion that made Roy wonder if she too had been injected with Mirakuru. The whole motherhood thing freaked him out, like he had never been afraid of Felicity before (of her tech skills sure, but not  _her)_  but her imposing presence as a mother kind of scared him a little.

(okay, a lot)

“I don’t know, she was crawling around and then she started to cry,” he explained. Oh god, he was the world’s worst babysitter, he realized in a panic. Sure, he could defend Jess against an army of attackers if needed, and he’d already saved her life twice (once before she was born, carrying Felicity out of a burning building before it collapsed, once when the family car had gotten hit by a drunken driver, Roy using his extra strength to pry the metal loose and get the intact carseat out). But boo-boos like this were so beyond his expertise, and obviously it was a  _big deal_  from the way Felicity was freaking.

Oliver was running down the steps now, and seriously what was it about parenthood that made people develop crazy abilities? He had no idea how Oliver had heard anything over the loud bass of the club upstairs.

“Is that a bump?” Oliver asked as he reached the spot where Felicity stood, rocking their daughter back and forth. His large hands carefully inspected Jess’ forehead, where a tiny purple spot started to stick out even as her skin was tinted red from the effort of her cries.

“She must’ve crawled into that,” Felicity pointed towards the metal legs of one of her work tables. “I told you we needed to baby-proof this place better!” She added with a forceful whisper that made a shiver run through Roy’s body. 

Man, he was really glad Felicity’s mama!bear anger was not directed at him right now.

“We can’t exactly account for all possible scenarios,” Oliver added in what was likely meant to sound like the voice of reason, but Roy didn’t miss the pleading tone underneath it.

“She’s your kid,” Roy piped up. “I mean, she’s gotta learn to deal with sharp things sooner or later.”

“ _Later_ ,” both parents spoke at once, staring Roy down. 

_Oh crap_ , he thought.

“Come on, let’s bring her upstairs,” Oliver added as Jess’ crying died down, probably just wanting the women out of the room so he could kill Roy in peace. 

“It’s one thing to sneak her in here before the club gets busy,” Felicity pointed out. “I’m not parading our daughter through a busy night so someone can sell a cell phone picture of my bad parenting to TMZ!”

Oliver sighed. “You’re right.” The words flowed effortlessly, like he’d gotten so used to saying them.

“Go,” Felicity offered. “I’ll stay down here.”

Oliver pressed a kiss onto Jess’ head, right next to the forming bruise. “You sure?” 

Felicity nodded. “Yeah, I have plenty to do.”

“K.”

Roy glanced at the floor as Oliver kissed his wife. 

“Come on, hood up,” Oliver shouted at him. “We’re gonna patrol.”

Roy was about seventy-five percent sure this was a trap, but it’s not like he had a choice.


	2. Mia & Connor 1 (Oliver/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohmypreciousgirl asked: Olicity - "Mm…your kid before five in the morning.”

“No,” is all Felicity says as the baby starts crying at three a.m., before she turns over and goes back to sleep.

“It’s okay, I got her,” Oliver says as he gets up, dazed in ways he didn’t know was possible - insomnia and him had become good friends, but now he’s finding less and less trouble with falling asleep at the drop of a hat. He still prefers getting up in the middle of the night; he got used to it back in the day after the emergency c-section, when he’d wake up every two hours to get Felicity to take her painkillers, and would take care of the baby so she could rest and heal faster.

Mia is fussing in her bassinet, her face an angry red, still in her room because he hasn’t had the heart to move her to the fully decorated nursery (he knows he’ll have to soon, she’s four months old, the bassinet won’t be safe much longer). A quick diaper check comes back clean, so he takes her to the kitchen, soft baby against his bare torso, shushing her as he taps the four-month-old softly on the back until the crying dies down to soft whimpers.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” he says, mostly because one of Felicity’s books talks about how the parents’ voice can soothe an infant. (He remembers talking to her stomach, feeling oddly self-conscious about it, not quite getting the point. He remembers the first time Mia curled into his neck and relaxed, still in the maternity ward, right after he said  _hi_. He trusted the books a lot more after that.)

Mia won’t take the bottle tonight, spits it out and scrunches her face, wailing resuming shortly after.

Oliver walks around with her in the dark, trusting his memory of the layout of their home. He was never patient when Thea would cry as a baby; he got slightly better when she was older, consoling her when their parents would dismiss her.

Maybe it’s because he’s heard plenty of worse sounds in his life since, but Mia’s cries don’t affect him the way he expected. (He thinks back to the island, or the sounds of the ocean around his life raft for days. The sound of Ivo’s gun firing. This is…  _different_.)

But still, after a full hour of trying to rock her, bounce her, feed her and sing to her, he can’t take it anymore.

“Felicity,” he whispers softly, but she snores through Mia’s cries. As guilty as he feels (she only sleeps through the cries when she knows he’s up and with her, a weird sixth sense about it), he shakes her gently. “Hey.”

She rubs her eyes with the back of her hands, “It’s four a.m.,” she whines.

“She won’t take the bottle,” he explains. “Probably another ear infection.”

Mia just gets miserable with those, refuses the bottle or a pacifier, screams at being bathed. 

“I miss the days when I wasn’t a human buffet,” Felicity points out as she pulls off her tank top and  unfastens the nursing bra, accepting the handful of baby he hands her. “Not that I don’t love the bonding experience,” she reassures Mia. “I just also miss sleeping without a bra, and ugh  _perky boobs_.”

“They’re still perky,” he reassures her as he slides behind her, moving his hands to her front until he’s holding the bulk of Mia’s weight. (He honestly wouldn’t know exactly; he sees them often, but he can’t cradle them in his hands like he used to because they’re too sensitive. Sex is enough of a challenge lately, honestly.) “You can doze off, I’ve got you.”

She does, her head lolling back on his shoulder, soft snores filling the room along with Mia’s noisy suckling. Felicity tenses every once in a while as Mia must bite down, but she doesn’t jerk, just whimpers before she relaxes again.

He doesn’t fall back asleep until the sun is rising, Mia tucked back into her bassinet, Felicity pressed tightly against his side.


	3. Mia & Connor 2 (Oliver/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaegermighty asked: "…You know, I’m really glad that he/she just came out and told us." olicity

“Mom, Dad?” 

Felicity and Oliver’s eyes meet over the dinner table. There is a gravity to their ten-year-old’s words that they aren’t used to hearing and it sets them on edge.

“Yes, Mia?” Felicity asks, smiling through her concern, entirely for their daughter’s benefit.

Mia plays with the food on her plate, moving the spaghetti back and forth on her plate as she considers her words. Some days Felicity is glad Mia never picked up her penchant for rambling, but as the girl grows up, Felicity wishes she would stop holding so much of it in. She certainly can brood like a certain vigilante, and that spells disaster for the upcoming teenage years.

(Thea is one of the few people who can get Mia to talk a mile a minute, hushed giggles and stopping their conversations as soon as anyone else enters the room.)

“I… think aunt Sara is the Black Canary,” she finally says. 

A loud clattering echoes in the room, and Felicity glances over to see Oliver slipping under the dinner table to pick up his fork from the wooden floor.

“What makes you say that, hon?” Oliver says when he comes back up, that smile he used to use on Felicity back before she joined the team.

Mia shrugs, her long light brown curls shifting back and forth across her shoulders. “Remember when mom and I got taken by those bad guys?”

Felicity gulps, remembering one of the worst nights of her life, and nods.

“Well, mom was holding me super tight when that loud thing went off. But when the Canary picked me up, she said something and I didn’t understand it at first because my ears were ringing,” Mia explains. “She said Blue, Dad.”

The nickname is one only Sara uses, ever since she saw the girl’s bright blue eyes. 

“Are you sure she didn’t say  _move_?” Oliver offers weakly, and Felicity rolls her eyes, because after almost fifteen years doing this, one would expect his excuses would’ve gotten better.

“How about we ask Aunt Sara to come over tomorrow and we can all talk about this?” Felicity asks, because they’ve known this time was coming. Their daughter was far too perceptive for her own good. 

Mia nods excitedly at the prospect of a visit. “Can she come to my soccer game in the morning first?” 

“You know she never misses those if she can help it,” Oliver reminds her.

Mia finishes dinner silently, placated for the time being.

Later, after they kiss her goodnight, they head to the basement of their house, past the encrypted biometric keypad, and settle into their mini-lair. She does enjoy running Ops a lot better these days, from the basement of their house and in her pajamas.

“I’m really glad she just, you know, told us,” Felicity speaks up as she’s waiting for the police scanner transcription program to load. Central City’s map appears first, the dot indicating Barry’s presence zipping through streets. Gotham’s map loads but no dots appear. Starling City’s takes the longest, four dots moving in different directions.

“We knew this day would come,” Oliver points out as he suits up. The fifth dot lights up on the map, at the exact location of their home.

Felicity sighs but she nods. “Be safe out there,” she tells him as she straightens his mask.

He beams down at her, a silent promise every night.

After he leaves, Felicity makes a mental checklist of everything she’ll need when they have to get up for Mia’s soccer game in seven hours. 

(Her extra-large coffee thermos is at the top of her list.)


	4. Mia & Connor 3 (Oliver/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: For the kidfic prompt: Oliver/Felicity, breaking the news about a new sibling :)

Mia hears the garage door open and puts her laptop to sleep. Her parents are getting home later than usual (from their day jobs, that is) and she would’ve worried if her mom hadn’t sent her a text.

The text had been followed by a call that said simply  _we need to talk when we get home_ , so Mia is slightly uneasy.

(She hadn’t been in trouble lately… well, not really. Nothing bad enough to cause the dip in her mother’s tone.)

“Mom?” she asks as she sees her mother hanging up her coat in the foyer. She looks tired, Mia notices.

“Hi hon,” Felicity says, opening her arms. Mia doesn’t think, just instinctively runs into them, almost the same height as her mother at this point.

When Mia pulls back, she looks around. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s… coming,” her mother explains. “You know we love you, right?”

“ _Mom,_ ” Mia whines. “Oh my god, are you two getting a divorce?”

Her mother gasps. “What? No. Why— do you think— Of course not!”

Mia sighs in relief, because her parents might be gross sometimes, but it is usually in a cute way. Truth be told, despite their double lives, she probably has the most stable family life in the entire school.

“There’s a little boy,” Felicity starts to explain. “His name is Connor and he’s six. His parents are… gone,” she says in a tone that Mia knows means  _dead_ , because she’s heard her mother use it before. “He’s coming to live with us. I’m really sorry, I wish we could’ve talked to you sooner, but everything happened so fast.”

Mia feels… shocked. She isn’t exactly sure what she feels, because there’s compassion there, but at the same time she feels hurt and concerned. Before she can process any of it, the door opens and a boy carrying a pile of boxes half as tall as him - which isn’t very tall at all, but still a sight that melts Mia’s heart. Above the highest box, she can see a mop of blond hair and freckles.

Her father enters last, carrying a duffelbag and several shopping bags. She rushes to his side, reaching for some of the bags and he brushes a kiss against her temple as he whispers his gratitude.

They set the bags and boxes down in the living room, the boy glancing around the entire house with interest.

Mia crouches in front of him, not too close, but she holds her hand out. “Hi, I’m Mia.”

“Connor,” the kid replies, shaking her hand. 

Mia doesn’t miss the way her mother’s eyes tear up at the sight, or how her father pulls his wife into his side.

“We were thinking he could have the bedroom across from yours, since I don’t really use it as an office anymore,” her mother explains, not adding the fact all the good computers are downstairs. The office upstairs was probably mostly for Mia’s sake before she learned the truth about their family.

“Sure,” Mia adds with a typical teenage shrug. But she makes eye contact with Connor, holding out her hand again. “Wanna come see your new room?”

Connor wraps his hand in hers, and follows her down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a comic fan, you'll notice I made Mia the biological child, and Connor the adopted child... soooo slight play on comic canon (plus you know, the whole Felicity thing deviation).


	5. Mia & Connor 4 (Oliver/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pepi21 asked: oooooh "Are you sure you don’t want me to drop them off myself? I don’t think you could handle seeing them off alone." olicityyyy bc why not :)

“Don’t forget your toothbrushes!” Felicity shouts at the hallway as she worries the muscles behind at the base of her neck.

Sara reaches over to squeeze her friend’s shoulder, feeling the tension in Felicity’s body. “It’ll be fine,” she offers softly, so the kids won’t hear. Blue knows, Sara is absolutely sure; there’s no way she hasn’t picked up on everything. But she’s keeping a brave face for her little brother, and Sara can’t help but smile at the thought.

Felicity slouches just slightly into Sara’s touch, relaxing for half a second before she tenses again. “Connor doesn’t sleep well with all the lights off… and make sure Mia has her epi-pen on her at all times.”

Sara remembers the first major allergic reaction when she took Mia for a walk; it hadn’t exactly been planned, Ollie and Felicity on the verge of an argument (a rare occurrence but Sara had witnessed enough of those to recognize the signs), and she’d taken the eighteen month old out for ice cream.

(Sara also remembers the trip to the ER, and having to call her friends to tell them; remembers the way Felicity and Oliver held each other in the waiting room, the brewing argument from earlier long forgotten.)

“I know,” is all Sara says. “I can take the family car and meet up with Roy and Sin. You don’t have to come.”

Felicity shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. They’ll know something’s off if I don’t.” There are unshed tears behind the glasses (slightly thicker lenses than before, soft lines around blue eyes).

Sara pulls Felicity even closer, holding her friend in the kitchen of the upscale townhouse. “We’ll find him,” Sara whispers in Felicity’s ear. 

(It’s not the first time Sara’s made this promise, but it always feels empty until she fulfills it.)

“I know you will,” Felicity whispers back. When she pulls back, a minute or two later, she’s fully composed, the sounds of two sets of footsteps approaching them, both kids loaded down with backpacks and a duffel bag.

“Aunt Sara!” Connor screeches, freckled face breaking into a full smile. 

“You have got to stop growing up, little man,” Sara says in a greeting before four and a half feet of affection slam into her middle. 

“Hey Aunt Sara,” Mia offers in a more somber manner, and Sara was right; Mia definitely knows something is up.

“Hi Blue,” Sara says as she pulls Mia against her side; the girl is as tall as she is now, and Sara has trouble reconciling this teenager with the three-year-old who once cried so hard during a movie, Sara had to get them outside and feed her candy until she believed the monsters from the movie weren’t real. “Are you guys excited about your vacation?” 

“Are you coming too???” Connor asks excitedly, jumping up and down twice.

“Not this time, Con. But I’ll tag along for the road trip to Coast City,” she explains. Truth is, she’s splitting her time between tracking Ollie down and making sure the kids are safe and out of sight. 

Mia bites her lip, long arms reaching behind her for the muscles on the back of her neck, and the motion makes Sara stop in her tracks. “Everything’s going to be okay,” Sara says, voice catching in her throat. 

(Sara remembers waking up on Ivo’s freighter with the realization that every last bit of her childhood was gone. She would do those six years all over again if it meant Mia wouldn’t have to go through the same realization.)

“Of course it will,” Mia says, pulling her arm back and rubbing Connor’s hair. “We’re just gonna hang out with Uncle Roy at some random undisclosed location, until Dad comes back from his  _work trip_ ,” she adds with a very familiar brand of snark, but her tone’s upbeat enough that Connor doesn’t seem to pick up on it. “Come on, kid, let’s go put this stuff in the car. And I really hope you remembered your headphones because you’re not using mine again.”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Connor says defeatedly as he follows his sister.

*

Everyone returns home ten days later, Oliver’s arm in a sling, Felicity with dark circles under her eyes, and the kids with a tan.

“Didn’t need these,” Mia offers as she hands Sara two sonic cry devices, a canister of tear gas and a taser gun.

Sara’s not even sure when Mia had gotten the items, since she didn’t even notice them missing. Ollie and Felicity have been pretty direct and insistent about keeping their kids out of the vigilante life, but Sara thinks it might be time to bring the subject up again.

(And she can’t quite help the burst of pride she feels.)


	6. Mia & Connor 5 (Oliver/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beckett-katic asked: "Sh…they’re asleep" - Olicity

“Oh!” Felicity yelps as the desk under her thighs moves a few inches before Oliver catches it, her monitor and equipment wobbling precariously before everything stabilizes again.

(Everything but her breathing, that is.)

“Okay, this desk isn’t bolted down, we should  _really_  move this elsewhere,” she says breathlessly as Oliver grunts against her neck.

“We are not leaving this room,” he argues, voice modulator still on. She glances between them, down at his suit, green leather parted open in strategic places, and up again to where his mask is all askew on his head, the black grease paint he still wears around his eyes so smudged it looks charcoal.

(The paint settles in the deep creases he has around his eyes these days.)

“Then pick me up,” she commands, and she doesn’t miss the way his lip quirks at her words or her tone. His hands reach under her thighs, effortlessly pulling her off the desk. “Washer,” she moans as he drops her just a couple of inches down, filling her even more.

She hasn’t seen a lot of vigilantes’ lairs - though she wagers she’s seen more than most people -  and theirs is probably the only one with a washer and dryer and Connor’s hockey stick hanging on a wall. She’d feel self conscious about it, but to be honest she could use all the multi-tasking she can afford, and there’s no way their double lives will ever stop bleeding into one another. 

He knocks a stack of folded clothes off the top, and even though her toes are curling, she still protests. “Hey!”

“I’ll refold them later, I will,” he promises absentmindedly, still in his vigilante voice; she reaches over to turn off the voice modulator because— well,  _there’s a line_.

She pulls him closer, brushes her lips against his cheekbone, smudges the grease paint some more. He tugs her nightshirt all the way off, calloused hands cradling her breasts with familiarity. Contentment fills her, threatening to spill inside her ribcage. 

His rhythm is quick and unsteady; by her calculations it’s been a few weeks at least, since it was this spontaneous and desperate.

(They’ve had some dark moments, especially in the beginning, after the really bad battles. But now, even when it’s heavy there’s this feeling of comfort that permeates everything around them.)

Felicity reaches between them, pushing the leather pants down a couple more inches, running the edge of her fingernails over the skin of his lower back, softly at first and then rougher until she can feel him tensing up.

His thumb finds her clit and she lets him hear her; the kids are asleep, but she personally oversaw the sound insulation of this room. There’s a loud noise his knees buckle and hit the edge of the front-loading washer, and she can’t help the way her lips smirk with satisfaction.

“I can’t believe you,” he groans as he rests his forehead against hers.

“I can’t believe your stamina hasn’t waned,” she counters. She knows age is not just a number for them anymore, and she’s sure he’ll grab one of the ice packs the next morning and press it against his knee while he eats breakfast with the kids.

When they collapse twenty minutes later, she barely has the energy to wipe his face (and her own, black smudges everywhere) and throw the rag in the washer. He helps her lock up, limping ever so slightly behind her as they go up the stairs and down the long hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

Mia’s room is dark except for the charger indicator for her cell phone, blinking a soft green as her soft snores fill the silent space. 

Next they make sure Connor’s nightlight is on and that he’s sound asleep and not having one of his bad nights, crowded with bad dreams and memories they can’t erase. 

(Not that they will stop trying, or at least hope the happy memories they make will someday outnumber the bad ones.)


	7. Dinah & Ellie 1 (Oliver/Sara/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boofadil asked: "Mm…your kid before five in the morning.” Oliver/Sara or Oliver/Felicity or ya know, all three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a sequel to this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1261702/chapters/2703463

The loud shriek startles the three of them in unison.

“Did you really have to buy the best baby monitor on the market?” Sara complains, rubbing at her eyes. “Sounds like she’s actually in the room with us. Couldn’t you have designed a nice soft light that shone brighter and brighter with every cry? We could’ve called it the Baby Signal.”

“Mmmmfff,” is all Felicity says as she turns over and smooshes her face into the pillow until her ears are partially covered.

“Your turn,” Sara says to Oliver.

The three had collapsed into bed barely three hours before, after one very long night of crime fighting.

“It’s technically still Felicity’s turn, it’s not even 6am. It doesn’t count until the sun is up,” he reminds her. Felicity usually takes the 10pm to 6am shift, then Oliver the next eight hours, and Sara the following eight. It’s worked out pretty well for the past fourteen months, but truth be told it’s been a while since little Dinah has woken them up this early.

“She’s biologically yours,” Felicity says, turning over until she’s flat on her back again. 

Sara quirks a smirk at her. “Funny how that only matters at 5am,” she teases, leaning over to rub her nose against Felicity’s. The shrieks have dulled to soft coos, but Sara knows they’ll pick up again soon.

“That’s the only time I remember,” Felicity says, brushing Sara’s hair softly to the side. “She inherited that stupid internal alarm clock the both of you have.”

“I don’t think I could lift her right now,” Oliver reminds them, his torso is a huge bruise, green and  yellow from his left hip up to his right shoulder.

“She’s probably up this early because the two of you didn’t make it back home until long after she’d fallen asleep,” Felicity points out, and Sara ignores the pang of guilt she feels. “It’s bad enough I have to babysit the two of you over comms, it took her forever to settle down. It was almost as bad as being your EA,” she adds with a sleepy smile towards Oliver.

He just shakes his head.

“You guys are the worst,” Sara says, kicking the blankets off as Dinah’s cries pick up again. 

She hears Felicity’s hushed giggles and the creaking of the mattress. As she closes the bedroom door, Oliver lets out a squeal of pain, followed by Felicity’s apologies.

“That’s some volume you got there, kiddo,” Sara compliments as she enters the nursery. 

Dinah’s standing up on her crib, bright blonde curls adorning her head. Her cries cease immediately, and she reaches little grabby hands at Sara. “Ma! Ma!”

She’s standing up straight, and even though her chubby cheeks are stained with tears, her mouth turns into a smile as Sara makes her way to the crib; Sara knows she’s not sick or hungry, it’s just Dinah’s standard  _I’m bored and I want attention_  look.

“Yeah, it’s Ma. Did you miss me? Is that it? I’ve missed you too,” Sara confesses, pulling her daughter up into her arms. “New diaper?” 

Dinah shakes her head, curls bouncing on her head. She loves her current big girl diapers almost as much as she loves being able to tell them when it needs to be changed, something she’d started doing only two weeks before. Sara never thought she’d enjoy this aspect of child-rearing, and the thought of Dinah’s upcoming terrible twos causes a shiver to run down her spine, but she likes the change in the communication as her daughter grows.

(Dinah as an infant had been mostly easygoing, but Sara had never quite picked up on the different cries and what each one meant, not the way Felicity had. Once Dinah had started crawling and moving though, Sara could read her body language with ease.)

“Wanna go see Mommy and Daddy?” she asks as she inhales the soft baby smell; it’s fainter now, but still there.

Dinah nods vehemently, her hands wrapping on the cotton of Sara’s t-shirt.

Sara heads towards the bedroom, knocking twice just in case. When no one protests, she opens the door, finding Oliver leaning against a few of the pillows, and Felicity sitting up against the headboard, tablet in her hands.

“What happened to going back to sleep?” Sara teases, setting Dinah in the middle of the bed and taking the tablet that Felicity hands to her; it’s set carefully on the nightstand, not looking to make this the third tablet to fall victim to parenthood.

“Don’t remind me,” Felicity replies as Dinah crawls towards her over the mountain of blankets. “I don’t know what’s worse in terms of sleep, being part of a team of nocturnal vigilantes or being a parent. At least I know which one is more rewarding.”

“Mommy!” Dinah squeals as she reaches Felicity, plopping her entire body down on Felicity’s stomach.

“Did you have a good sleep?” Felicity asks, pulling Dinah up until she’s pressed against the entirety of her torso.

Dinah shakes her head no. Felicity glares pointedly at Sara first, then at Oliver, and Sara has to admit she has a point; the kid did get that from them.

“Wanna cuddle?” Felicity asks.

“Okay,” Dinah offers weakly, as if she hadn’t actually masterminded this from the beginning. Then the toddler turns her attention to Oliver, noticing his bruises. “Owies?” 

“Dad got hurt, but it’s not bad,” Sara explains. It’s direct but a half truth. Dinah’s getting more perceptive, her eyes tracing their scars and her nose crinkling in confusion (starting to mimic Felicity too), but at this point Sara can only reassure her they’re fine. She’s not looking forward to the day they start to have to give more complete explanations behind injuries, old and new.

Dinah leans over to press a kiss to Oliver’s injured shoulder. He winces at the weight, but as their daughter pulls back, he puts on his best smile. “It feels better already,” he lies.

The toddler beams as she crawls back to where she was before, on Felicity’s chest. Sara slides back into bed, pressing her face against Felicity’s ribs, letting Dinah play with her hair with one hand as she sucks the thumb on her other hand.

 

(In the end, everyone but Felicity falls back asleep.)


	8. Dinah & Ellie 2 (Oliver/Sara/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohmypreciousgirl asked: Smoaking Canarrow - "So, how should we break the news that they’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?"

They’re all on edge once their latest battle dies down, leftover adrenaline from the chase and running on fumes; even Felicity has snapped at the two of them, which granted is not that rare of an occurrence.

(The fact she locks herself in the bathroom afterwards is, however.)

Sara finds Ollie lying on the couch after, post adrenaline crash, taking up the entirety of the three-seater. Dinah is sitting on the slope of his knees, dirty winter boots tapping against his stomach making a mess, and his large hands playing a game of reaching for her bony little shins.

Her hair is in a ponytail, curls sticking out from the ends; her hair can be a nightmare if you’re not used to it, so Sara’s not surprised Thea just put a hair tie around it. Sara lets the hair down, curls just above Dinah’s shoulders, even though her hair reaches between her shoulder blades when it’s wet. “How was Aunt Thea, kiddo?”

Dinah smiles. “Fun. We watched movies and had lots of ‘corn.”

“I wouldn’t tell Mommy that,” Ollie says, eyes pleading with their daughter. 

She’s five now, just lost her first baby tooth two weeks ago, before their world came crashing down. Memories of that evening come back to Sara: the three of them sneaking into Dinah’s room to try to put money under her pillow, telling Oliver to stick the $20 bill back in his wallet because Dinah was  _five_ , what the hell was she going to do with that much money? The three of them had snuck out of the room undetected by some miracle (Dinah’s definitely not a heavy sleeper) and crashed into their own bed, hearts bursting with emotion.

(“You’re such a good Dad,” Felicity had whispered to Ollie. “The way you soothed her when the tooth came out, I just— I don’t do that gory stuff well. Too many nightmare stories from my dentist visits.”

It was partially true; Felicity could change the dirtiest diapers and care for the most graphic stomach viruses, but she really hated any doctor appointments with needles, and apparently also anything related to teeth. 

Ollie had shrugged; fatherhood was so much of his existence at this point, but he was always dismissive of any praises, too much baggage to properly process it all.

“You are, Ollie,” Sara had pushed, while pulling him into a kiss. 

The three hadn’t fallen asleep for a very long time after that.)

“Calvin slept in my bed every night,” Dinah announces, her eyes darting back and forth between two-thirds of her parental unit. 

“We’ve talked about this, Dinanator,” Sara says, hoping the silly nickname softens the letdown.

“Maybe in a few more years we can get your a puppy,” Ollie offers, and it’s a diplomatic gesture meant to placate Dinah, but Sara sees it for what it really is - Ollie would’ve gotten Dinah the puppy the firs time she asked, if Sara and Felicity would’ve let him. 

(See also: the pony, the alpaca Dinah had fallen in love with at the petting zoo…  a car she wouldn’t have been able to drive for eleven more years, just because the kid had liked the bright coral pink color of the paint job.)

Dinah sighs dramatically. “Fine,” she concedes. “Maybe when I’m eight?” Eight is her default  _future_  age at the moment, anything that can’t happen yet will happen when she’s eight. Everything in the past was when she was three, even when it wasn’t, and they’ve learned not to argue. 

(So their kid is stubborn almost to a fault, it’s not like anyone didn’t see this coming.)

“Maybe,” Ollie replies, a bit too quickly.

“We’ll see,” Sara interjects, reining it in as best as she can. 

*

Just as predicted, Dinah’s a little starved for attention after a couple of days away from them, and it takes Sara and Oliver two hours to get her to bed. 

(Felicity had snuck out sometime during their attempt, kissing Dinah on the forehead and muttering something about a quick trip to the store.)

Sara heads to their bedroom while he fixes himself food, eating for what feels like the first time in several days; when he re-enters the master bedroom, it’s empty. He can hear the shower running through the open door, and he is grateful for the fact he got to shower at the foundry because he’s not sure he could stay awake under the warm water now.

Oliver leans against the doorway, watches as Felicity braids her hair; she doesn’t do it often, usually only when she’s too busy or distraught to blow dry it before bed. 

“What’s going on?” he asks as he makes his way to her, takes the hair tie from her wrist and ties the end of the braid for her; the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing has slipped off one of her shoulders and he leans down to press his lips to her skin (the t-shirt is possibly one of his really old ones, patches of it are almost sheer from time and use).

Felicity’s head drops forward, her chin planted firmly against the top edge of her breastbone. His lips trace the lines of the vertebrae he can see, just as the shower shuts off.

The large mirror’s fogged up, but he sees Sara’s silhouette as she steps closer to them, wrapped in a towel and hair dripping all over the plush rug that takes up most of the large bathroom.

Felicity reaches into one of the drawers, pulls out a plastic stick; it’s been a while since he’s seen one, but it’s not something someone forgets easily. 

“Is that…?” he asks anyway, just to be absolutely sure.

Sara reaches over him for it, her towel getting lost in the process but she doesn’t even care.

“Shit,” she says, but she’s breaking into the widest smile he’s even seen on her face. 

Felicity is still not looking at them, glancing down at the sink. Oliver turns her carefully, can’t help  the urge to pick her up and set her on the edge of the marble vanity counter. Her eyes are red and just slightly swollen, something he’d managed to miss earlier, and he wants to just hold her.

“Felicity,” he says softly, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, teasing the skin behind her ear until she glances up at him.

“It’s just such awful timing,” she says. “Leaving her with Thea for just a few days was absolute hell. She’s finally at the point where she can talk to us, and we can teach her about how to deal with strangers. Can we really start over?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sara says, slipping under his arm and sliding against them, her wet hair leaving damp trails all over his clothes. “This is the best news ever.”

“Sar,” Felicity says, in a tone that’s somewhat skeptic. 

“She’s right,” Oliver offers. “We sent four people to jail today, and that felt damn good. But this? It’s so much better.”

Felicity softens at their reassurances. “I just felt so crappy, and I thought it was just because of everything that happened this past week, but then we got home and I snapped at the two of you, and god I’m just  _so exhausted_.”

“The next couple of months are gonna be pretty taxing,” Sara warns. “But it gets better, remember?”

“What about Dinah?” Felicity asks, like it’s suddenly dawned on her. She whips her head at Oliver, desperation in her voice. “How did you react to Thea?”

Oliver winces, because it makes sense to ask him; Felicity’s an only child, and Sara’s the youngest. He’s the only one with experience here. “I was older than Dinah,” he offers, and Felicity looks like she’s going to say something else but a long yawn interrupts her. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Felicity’s damp braid and Sara’s wet strands leave large soaked puddles on his pillow, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.


	9. Dinah & Ellie 3 (Oliver/Sara/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boofadil asked: I think we should have another. OT3 or Oliver/Sara. I'm on shift so no hurry. And you've already answered one of mine so, ya know. But still! Or if that doesn't strike your fancy, same pairings, "Come on now, I think you’re being too harsh. He/she’s just a kid. Remember all of the stupid things we used to do when we were their age?"

“You’re grounded!” Sara shouts as the front door closes behind her, Dinah stomping her feet away from her mother, shoulder length honey blonde hair swishing as she goes.

“Sa-ra,” Oliver warns carefully as he shrugs off his jacket. He runs a hand through salt-and-pepper hair, one of the many side effects of spending the last few years with  _four_  females.

“Why is Ma upset?” Ellie asks as Felicity helps the eight-year-old out of her backpack. “Is it because Dinah was kissing that boy?”

“She was  _parking_ ,” Sara grits out.

“What’s that?” Ellie asks, chocolate brown hair in a neat braid, pink-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

“It means nothing,” Felicity quickly corrects. “Come on, go start your homework, I’ll call you when dinner gets here.”

“You guys never tell me anything,” Ellie complains as she shuffles away, dragging her backpack on the ground.

The three of them enter the kitchen, Felicity pouring them some much needed wine after the evening events. 

Sara leans against the counter as they drink, clutching the wine glass so tightly, Felicity’s afraid it might shatter. “Ollie, you can’t tell me you’re not upset.”

“Of course I’m upset,” Oliver says. His voice doesn’t betray it, but Felicity sees the tension in his jaw, and the twitch in his eyebrow. “But she’s a freshman, Sara. We knew this day would come.”

Felicity slides into his arm, kisses the column of his throat. “You’re certainly taking this a lot better than I would expect.”

He shrugs. “That day Bessie Kern pushed her off the swings, I realized I would not get through fatherhood if I tried putting an arrow through every person who touched her.”

“You’re really attractive when you’re being mature,” she informs him as she turns in his arms, setting her sight on Sara. Felicity motions for Sara to come over, and when she doesn’t budge (full on brood mode), Felicity drags Oliver behind her until they’re right in front of Sara. “And you’re really attractive when you’re being irrational.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “I’m not being irrational!”

“She’s just being a kid, Sar,” Felicity says, pressing her lips against hers.

“You do remember what we were like at that age?” Oliver asks ominously.

Sara nods. “Why do you think I’m so… disappointed? God, the last thing I need is Dinah making the same mistakes we did.”

“Well, the age difference between Dinah and Ellie is enough that the chances of them dating the same guy is  _significantly_  lower,” Felicity points out. Off Sara’s shocked face, she glances at the wine bottle. “I said that out loud, didn’t I? … And I guess we’re still not talking about that?”

Oliver is the first one to break, his chest shaking behind her; Sara’s shock fades as she starts laughing as well.

“I am so telling Laurel that,” Sara threatens and Felicity silently begs her not to. “I guess I should go find Dinah.”

Felicity nods and kisses Sara as she passes them, the wine spreading warmth across her middle.

“Wanna help me with dinner?” she asks Oliver.

He nods, knowing the  _help_  meant just giving her his wallet so she could place the order online.

*

Sara’s knuckles rasp against the lilac door.

“Go away!” Dinah shouts over the music she’s blasting.

“I’m legally not allowed to do that, google  _child abandonment_ ,” Sara shouts back. “Come on, open up.  _Please._ ”

The music fades as Sara holds her breath, waiting until the handle clicks and the door cracks open, Dinah’s tear stained face cutting something deep within Sara.

“Can I come in?” 

Dinah shrugs, but walks away with the door half open, and that’s enough of a leave for Sara to enter the room.

“Did you come here to ruin my life some more?” There’s a forceful flop on the bed, the particleboard of the frame creaking from exertion.

Sara fights the urge to roll her eyes at the dramatics. “Dinah, I came here to apologize,” she says with sincerity.

The teenager pauses as she’s picking at the frayed ends of her track shorts. “For what?”

Sara takes a deep breath. “It’s possible I… overreacted.”

“You think?!” Dinah replies. “I just— I expected Mom to freak out, even Dad, but… I didn’t expect this from you.”

“I worry about you,” Sara explains. “Which I know, doesn’t excuse anything exactly, but… I can’t help it. You’re my little girl.”

“We were just  _kissing_ ,” Dinah offers. “You’ve talked to me about this stuff, all of you have. I still have Aunt Laurel’s pepper spray in my bag, and I know how to defend myself. I… I really like him, Ma.”

Sara sits on the floor in front of the bed, facing her daughter, not sure how to respond yet.

“Are you… upset because of that? Is it because— nevermind,” Dinah cuts herself off.

“What is it, kiddo?” Sara pushes.

Dinah takes a huge breath, “Is it because he’s a boy?” The words rush out in one breath, Dinah’s eyes refusing to meet Sara’s.

“What? Of course not,” Sara replies. “Sweetie, I… I don’t want  _anyone_  to hurt you. Dinah— do you— does it ever feel like our family is too much? Too different?”

Dinah’s eyes widen at the question, realization suddenly setting in. “No, Ma! Nothing like that. I love our family so much, I promise.” She launches herself at Sara, limber arms wrapping tightly around her. 

Sara tries to control her own tears. “Come on, tell me all about this boy,” she asks when they break apart.

“Ma,  _no_ ,” Dinah begs. “It’s dumb. It’s just a dumb crush, and I’m fairly sure he’ll never want to talk to me again after tonight.”

“I thought the same thing about your dad when I was your age,” Sara points out, remember the cops breaking up the party at Tommy’s house.

“Gross,” Dinah adds, wrinkling her nose. It doesn’t stop her from asking: “And Mom?”

Sara smiles and wipes Dinah’s cheeks. “I was much older, but still didn’t think I had a chance.”

“But you did,” Dinah points out.

“Obviously,” Sara adds with a smirk. “He’ll come around, if he has any common sense at all.”

Dinah rolls her eyes. “He’s a  _teenage boy_ , Ma. Common sense and him aren’t exactly well acquainted.”

“How did you get so smart?” Sara questions, deeply impressed.

“ _Mom_ ,” Dinah teases.

(It gets her a pillow to the face.)


	10. Sam 1 (Sara/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felicityandherthreemusketeers asked: Sara and Felicity :) “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop them off myself? I don’t think you could handle seeing them off alone.”

Things Felicity didn’t count on when they decided to go through with this: Sara being fully dedicated to Sam’s every need from the time he’s born. When Felicity goes back to work, Sara plays stay-at-home mom during the day, fierce vigilante at night. 

Sara doesn’t do baby-talk at Sam, nor does she play any of the educational DVDs Felicity buys. “ _The kid’s got your DNA, I’m not worried about his brain development.”_

What she does do: play peek-a-boo with him for hours on end, and when he’s fussy - right before he starts really crying - she drops her voice and tells him stories; he’s so fascinated with her voice that he usually quiets down and just listens, wide hazel eyes staring at her.

(She tells stories that aren’t exactly kid-friendly. Felicity will remind her of that a few years down the road, when their son grows with a thirst for adventure and wishes to conquer the world with his bare hands.)

Pre-school is hard on Sara, and Felicity comes out of the shower and finds Sara awake in bed, hugging her bent legs, chin on her kneecaps.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? I can call in for take a half day,” Felicity says.

“It’s fine,” Sara lies.

 

*

Felicity tells Oliver about the morning events on the elevator ride up, and how excited Sam was finally go to school. She’s mid-sentence when she feels the pang in her heart, and she can tell Oliver notices it.

The door opens on her floor, but he hits the close button and calls Diggle to bring the car back around.

The trio arrives at the pre-school together, and find Sara sitting on the picnic table at the park across the street. She rolls her eyes when they approach her, and pats the spot next to her until Felicity steps on the metal mesh bench and lands next to her in her office clothes.

“Are you guys really going to sit here all day?” Diggle asks even as he takes a seat on a tree stump.

“We’re vigilantes, we lurk,” Oliver replies defensively as he sits on the metal bench between Felicity and Sara’s legs.

“You guys are something alright,” Diggle comments as they hear the bell ring and watch as the kids file out for recess, Sam finding the monkey bars in the playground and dominating them like a champ.


	11. Sam 2 (Sara/Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohmypreciousgirl asked: Smoaking Canary - "I told you we should have just gotten that German Shepherd puppy."

“You are ruining my life and I hate you!” 

The words echoes around the apartment before a bedroom door slams shut with such force that the pictures on the wall shake. (first birthday, first day of school, a freckled face with a smile missing several teeth, dressed up in a tux for his moms’ wedding)

Sara rolls her eyes. “I really owe my parents an apology, if I was even a third of the pain in the ass that this kid is at age fifteen.”

Felicity glares pointedly.

“Fine, I was just as much of a pain in the ass,” Sara admits as she rests her hip against the kitchen counter. “But my parents never had to deal with their fifteen-year-old daughter _wanting to be a vigilante._ ” 

“Good point, you did wait until you were in your twenties before you became an assassin-turned-vigilante,” Felicity adds, leaning into Sara. “He’s just growing up so fast.”

“I told you that getting a German Shepherd puppy would’ve been a better idea than having a kid with Ollie’s DNA.” Sara points out, wrapping her arms around her wife’s neck. “Speaking of which, we could ask Ollie to talk to Sam.”

Felicity laughs into Sara’s neck. “Yeah, like when we asked Oliver to have the sex talk with him? Because that went so well.”

Sara’s body shakes with laughter at the memory. “Okay, then maybe Digg? Barry?”

Felicity nods. “I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?” Sara inquires with a smirk.

“Nope,” Felicity replies as she trails kisses down Sara’s neck. “Sam’s gonna be playing loud angsty rock music for the next two hours.”

Sara bites her lower lip. “Mmm, I love the way your brain works.”

Felicity lets her hands trail over Sara’s back, under her tank top and above the sweatpants. “So you keep telling me.”


End file.
